


these ties that bind

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"People all say that Threads born out of romantic love are the strongest and the most long-lasting. These Threads are supposed to suffuse you with warmth and a fire so bright it puts the fireworks on Fourth of July to shame. "</p>
<p>After Kurt's departure to New York, Blaine can’t help but feel as though he has been left in the dust. The Thread between the two of them is strained and it truly is taking a toll on Blaine. Throw a somewhat reformed Sebastian and a budding friendship between Warbler and ex-Warbler into the mix, and watch the sky light up in brilliant flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these ties that bind

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys, my first foray into the glee fandom *awkward little wave* welp, hope you guys enjoy the fic! (this is me decidedly not channeling hunter clarington, not at all)

Blaine Anderson does not mope.

He merely digs heartily into Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while wearing threadbare pyjamas, twiddling with his mobile phone every few minutes in hopes of glimpsing Kurt’s name on the screen. He likes to think of it as some sorely needed ‘me-time’.

Except it isn’t really, is it?  

He sighs.

Ever since Kurt left for New York, the Thread between him and Kurt feels stretched to its breaking point. He misses warm fingers threading through his own, the peck of warm lips against his cheek and the way Kurt lights up the room when he really gets into talking about the latest fashion trend or one of his idols. He misses being physically in the same place as his boyfriend, damn it! The Thread used to be golden, radiating warmth and safety and comfort.

Now, in his mind’s eye, it is cold and leaden, a weighted chain that he is struggling to lift up every day.

They try to make it work, they really do. Yet, phone calls and Skype can only do so much for a relationship that Blaine is now only realising has been accumulating tiny fissures in its shiny façade, perhaps since their very first kiss.

Okay, now he is just getting paranoid.

He spoons another generous spoonful of Phish Food into his mouth. As he crunches chocolate fish between his teeth, he sighs inwardly.  

People all say that Threads born out of romantic love are the strongest and the most long-lasting. These Threads are supposed to suffuse you with warmth and a fire so bright it puts the fireworks on Fourth of July to shame. Alright, maybe that last bit is a touch exaggerated but they are meant to be one of a kind, after all. He thinks this thing between him and Kurt really is one of a kind. Yet, lately, it begins to feel less and less like that. Relationships require mutual effort, don’t they? Why is he getting the feeling that he is always the one reaching out to Kurt and even so, Kurt only ever gushes about all the shiny new things in New York and rarely asks about what is happening back in this small town? Why can’t Kurt make the effort to meet in the middle?

And now he feels a little sick, continuing with that line of thinking (and perhaps in part due to the copious amount of ice cream he has been consuming). What kind of boyfriend is he? Kurt is off in New York pursuing his dreams, dreams that he has worked so hard for. And of course Kurt would be thrilled by his new experiences and a little eager to share them, perhaps just overlooking things back in Westerville a tiny bit. But that’s only natural, right? Or maybe he has been caught up in the new curriculum and trying his best to get used to the way things worked over there that he has not really had the time to truly talk to Blaine. After Kurt settles in, everything will be fine, as it always is.

He ought to be happy for Kurt and not acting so selfishly bitter and mopey.  There, he admits it. He is being mopey. Alright, Anderson, time to get over it.

Then why is he still lying on his stomach on his duvet on a Friday night, binging on comfort food and horrors of horrors, fighting back the traitorous prickle he feels behind his eyes?

**_“Anderson men don’t cry, son.”_ **

He takes a deep breath. The tight feeling in his chest does not go away, though.

In fact, his chest really seems to be getting uncomfortably tight. And his stomach is roiling just a tad.

Maybe he should lie down for a bit.

Just to be sure he does not miss anything from his boyfriend, he switches on the sound mode on his mobile phone and flops back onto his duvet.

* * *

He does not even realise he has dozed off until the sound of a familiar soulful rendition of Katy Perry’s Fireworks pierces through the blurry veil of sleep.

He feels a sharp tug in his chest at the sound of it. He still remembers the day they recorded it; him seated cross-legged on Kurt’s bed, Kurt sashaying around the room like the diva he is, laughing and belting out the chorus. That seems like ages ago. It feels like every memory of him and Kurt is now painted with a tinge of sepia. There is that nagging feeling again, of a dream fading further and further out of his reach. The more he reaches out for Kurt, the faster he dwindles from sight.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he fumbles for his mobile phone. The tiny spark of hope that it might be Kurt dances teasingly across the Thread. 

It is 3 AM in the morning. But what is surprising about it, is the contact that flashes across the screen. He quashes the disappointment threatening to smother him as he stabs at the ‘answer’ button.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” Alright, maybe that came out a little harsher than he intended but it is one thing to call at 3 AM but definitely quite another thing altogether (it is definitely going in his mental list of the top 50 douchebag things one can do) to call at 3 AM without warning, wake him up from his slumber and give him false hope that it is his boyfriend calling from New York.

He takes that back. That is probably not one of the nicest things Blaine has thought. What has Sebastian ever done to him? (Okay, nope, not going down that particular nasty memory lane.) But in actuality, he has managed to put the slushie incident past him (vaguely, he is trying his best to work on it) and struck up a wary friendship (if apparently coincidental meetings in Lima Bean, back-and-forth text messages and a few calls can constitute one) with the Warbler captain.

“Whoa, someone’s woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Hey yourself, Killer,” comes the smooth reply from the other side of the line.

“Wouldn’t have woken up if it weren’t for you,” Blaine all but grumbles into the phone, still attempting to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Damn but he really is not feeling too good. He blames it on the ice cream but since when does ice cream give people mild chest pains and nausea?

He hears Sebastian hum contemplatively.

“Well, I did have a different kind of wake-up call for you in mind…” Blaine feels heat crawling up his cheeks. “…but I don’t think you would’ve appreciated it at this hour.”

Blaine makes a strangled kind of noise. He must have made that sound right into his phone because he hears Sebastian’s throaty chuckle in reply.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the company,” Blaine starts carefully when he finally regains some modicum of composure, “but to what do I owe the pleasure, Sebastian?”

There is a pause, in which Blaine begins to worry that his choice of wording might unleash a whole new world of Smythe’s Special Innuendos on him. He rubs his chest absent-mindedly.

There is something odd in his tone when Sebastian responds with, “Is it that unusual for a late-night call between friends?”

Blaine feels both his eyebrows shoot up. Ever since they patched things up, they have never actually used the ‘F’ word to describe whatever they established between them. Sebastian is still a shameless flirt; Blaine is pretty sure asking Sebastian to eradicate that will be tantamount to asking him to carve out a little bit of himself but he is getting better. Blaine still gets flustered (“Adorably so,” Sebastian notes, smirking, during one of the many times they run into each other at the Lima Bean). Essentially they are still the same from before the slushie incident, except Sebastian seems to have toned down a little, Blaine has grown a little warier and the thing between Blaine and Kurt seems to be a little shakier than before.

Well, Blaine supposes they are friends. Sebastian honestly seems to be making an effort. It is nice to see someone else making an effort in a relationship for a change.

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine,” Blaine breathes a little sheepishly into the phone. _Although it is a bit odd to call at 3 AM, of all times._ He can almost picture the tension bleeding out of the other boy.

He eyes the pint of melted ice cream somewhat unhappily. He cannot believe he is saying this but curse Phish Food to the pits of hell, his chest is really starting to ache. He wonders somewhat manically if he has gotten some deadly hereditary disease he has not a clue about, right up until he is lying on his death bed somewhere.

A soft exhale, and then, “Hey, so I was thinking, you and me, 2 PM at the Lima Bean tomorrow?”

Blaine blinks.

_What._

His brain might have stopped operating for a whole minute or so. That might also have something to do with the fuzz his brain is currently still swimming in. Definitely the fuzz.

He hears a low chuckle from Sebastian, “Relax, Killer. I’m not propositioning you. Well, not yet at least.”

Blaine will never, ever admit to the undignified squawk he lets loose into the speaker of his phone. It just seems to fuel Sebastian’s mirth; he actually lets out a hearty, honest-to-God laugh. _Oh my god, he’s enjoying this. He’s actually enjoying this._

“Look, if I truly propositioned you, you would definitely know. And I know you’re still with Mr Prissy so I know, I know, hands and mouth off.”

_Well. One unexpected turn after another._

Normally, that should have turned Blaine into a flustered, tongue-tied mess. Right now, his thoughts are drawn back to Kurt and now he is back to the pity fest that got him into this state in the first place. _Great._

There is an uneasy silence. Blaine is almost afraid that Sebastian will pick up on his boyfriend troubles or at least start asking about it. Either Sebastian is not as perceptive as he gives him credit for, or he simply decides it is not in his interest to ask about it. Either way, Blaine is glad when the other boy moves on to talk about other things, like how he was totally on a winning streak in last week’s lacrosse game, and how his new roommate is a complete bore.

After getting over the initial disappointment of not-a-Kurt-call, it is actually rather nice; if not for the fact that Blaine is sure he has practically been yawning into his phone for the past few minutes of the increasingly one-sided conversation.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I, Killer?” comes Sebastian’s wry drawl after a beat too long on Blaine’s side.

Blaine jerks fully awake, fingers scrabbling against his duvet. His phone almost falls out from his loose grasp.

“What, no, I was just, I mean, I—” he is barely allowed to finish his garbled sentence before he breaks into another huge yawn. He claps a hand quickly over his mouth in a bid to stifle it. His scrunches up his face a little when he feels another wave of unwelcome pangs in his chest.

A soft chuckle drifts up from the receiver. “It’s fine, I’ll leave you to your beauty sleep, Anderson. Not that you’ll actually need it, considering how pretty you already are, but I actually want to have something resembling an actual two-sided conversation tomorrow, so…”  

Blaine almost blushes. Almost.

And he’s wondering why his relationship with Kurt isn’t working out. He seriously needs to get his head checked. What the hell is he doing here, with Sebastian? He should be calling Kurt and asking him how his day went. How are classes over there? Has he befriended anyone that shares his love for the crème de la crème of fashion? He should at least text him.

“Yeah, okay, night Sebastian,” he mumbles somewhat distractedly into his phone.

“Morning,” corrects Sebastian with a smirk in his voice, but there is something decidedly subdued and un-Sebastian about his tone as he says, “Sweet dreams, Anderson.”

Blaine flops face-first back onto his bed, arms hanging over the edges, phone dangling from his grasp. He closes his eyes somewhat dejectedly.

Fine, maybe Blaine Anderson does mope.

* * *

He only realises that he has fallen asleep without texting Kurt when he wakes up the next morning with an aching feeling in his chest and his phone flat out of battery, half-hidden under his bed.  


**Author's Note:**

> well, this chapter's just a little peek into the whole thing, with more action, emotional scenes and stuff coming right up! (sorry, i have just always been very enamoured with the idea of ties that connect people together. )  
> a hug from blaine for anyone who figures out the pun in the title of this fic! oh, and i'm always open to feedback about the fic! :)


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